


The Secretary

by Lillyjk, lola381pce



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Boss Clint Barton, Comeplay, Dom Clint Barton, Light BDSM, M/M, Power Dynamics, Secretary Phil Coulson, Secretary au, Spanking, Sub Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-26 15:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2657426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillyjk/pseuds/Lillyjk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Barton has been putting off reviewing the final contracts for more than a week and Phil’s desperate enough to say yes when Mr. Barton agrees to review them only if Phil  stays late and plays a game of truth or dare. And really, Phil could just say no but there’s something about the way the muscles play across Mr. Barton’s arms that makes him wonder what those hands would feel like on his body. With every round of questions or dares, Phil’s cheeks get a little more flushed, his breath coming a bit quicker.</p><p>He knows they have to get these contracts reviewed tonight but in all honesty, Phil is becoming completely distracted both by the game and by the way his boss licks his fingertip before he turns a page, staring him in the eye as he does so until Phil can no longer hold his gaze and breaks it by looking down at the desk.</p><p>He imagines Clint  Mr. Barton running that finger tip over Phil’s lips into his mouth to suck it, telling him to wet it thoroughly, before Mr. Barton removes it and slowly circles his hole then pushes carefully inside starting to open him up. His breath hitches in his throat and he can feel himself blushing furiously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, somebody posted a picture of Clark Gregg wearing glasses and a lovely three piece suit and I made a comment about him looking like he could be the James Spader character in The Secretary. The lovely and talented Lola381pce pointed out that wouldn't it be interesting if Phil was the secretary and Clint was the boss...and you can read the whole thread where we wrote the original tumblr fic here if you so desire. This was truly written by both of us in bits and pieces on tumblr and is pure porn and was lots of fun. My first attempt at sub Phil but I may revisit this verse again. http://lillyjkforreal.tumblr.com/post/103202998564/lola381pce-lillyjkforreal-lola381pce

 

 

Phil Coulson has been working for Clint Barton’s company for three months now.  He’d applied for the job on Pepper Potts’ recommendation and been hired sight unseen by Mr. Barton based on his resume and a hurried five minute phone call.  Mr. Barton had been desperate to fill the position after his elderly secretary had retired unexpectedly.  It’s quite different from his usual secretarial jobs, but then again, Mr. Barton is quite different from Phil’s usual bosses.  He’s the founder and President of Hawkeye, a company that specializes in archery equipment.

It should be a niche market, but before starting his company Mr. Barton had been a famous circus performer, and a professional archer (and really, before coming to work here Phil hadn’t even known that was an actual profession) and he’d invented some sort of targeting system for his arrows that both Stark Industries and Hammer Industries were eager to get their hands on.  Hawkeye employs just over two hundred people and is on the verge of growing exponentially if the deal with the targeting system gets locked in.

Phil has worked mainly in finance and legal and he’s used to a certain modicum of propriety at the workplace.  He’s quiet and reserved by nature and it’s served him very well in his professional life.  Clint Barton is neither shy nor reserved and propriety is not something that interests him at all.  The first day Phil had shown up to work, appropriately dressed in a suit and tie, Mr. Barton had given him a slow head to toe perusal and licked his lips.  He’d held onto Phil’s hand a moment too long when they shook hands, and gripped it with more force than required.  The attention had made Phil blush and bow his head and try desperately not to think about the things he did outside of work, the things that certainly weren’t meant  for Mr. Barton to know.   

Most days Mr. Barton wears jeans to the office and scuffed up boots.  He calls Phil into his office to draft letters and he’ll sprawl out in his chair and put his feet on his desk and look at Phil like he’s waiting for Phil to say something. Phil will resolutely keep his eyes on his notepad instead of the well-muscled legs encased in tight denim.

Phil is tasked with keeping Mr. Barton on schedule because the targeting deal is being finalized and the company’s future is on the line.   Lately it seems Mr. Barton is more interested is seeing what it will take to make his uptight secretary let loose instead of getting work done.  He calls Phil into his office just to see what color his tie is and then sends Phil away when he brings up the conference call with Tony Stark.  Tensions are running high among the employees.  It’s become obvious that something is distracting Mr. Barton.   

Mr. Barton has been putting off reviewing the final contracts for more than a week and Phil’s desperate enough to say yes when Mr. Barton agrees to review them only if Phil  stays late and plays a game of truth or dare. And really, Phil could just say no but there’s something about the way the muscles play across Mr. Barton’s arms that makes him wonder what those hands would feel like on his body. With every round of questions or dares, Phil’s cheeks get a little more flushed, his breath coming a bit quicker.

  
He knows they have to get these contracts reviewed tonight but in all honesty, Phil is becoming completely distracted both by the game and by the way his boss licks his fingertip before he turns a page, staring him in the eye as he does so until Phil can no longer hold his gaze and breaks it by looking down at the desk.

He imagines _Clint_  Mr. Barton running that finger tip over Phil’s lips into his mouth to suck it, telling him to wet it thoroughly, before Mr. Barton removes it and slowly circles his hole then pushes carefully inside starting to open him up. His breath hitches in his throat and he can feel himself blushing furiously.

It’s only with the last of his control that he manages to stop the strangled groan from escaping. His eyes snap up to look at his boss; he’s asked him something but Phil has no idea what it was…

  
“Sorry, Sir,” Phil stutters out. “I..what did you ask?” Mr. Barton just shakes his head and makes a tsk tsk sound.

"You seem to be lacking focus, Phil." And the way he says his name draws Phil's attention to those strong white teeth sinking into Mr. Barton's plush bottom lip. He imagines what it would feel like for those teeth to nip at his own lips, at his throat, for  Mr. Barton to mark him.

"Yes, Sir."  Phil says, his mouth dry as Mr. Barton pushes his chair back from the desk.

He crooks his finger at Phil, beckoning him forward and Phil obeys even though he knows he shouldn't.  Mr. Barton reaches up and grabs Phil's tie using it as a leash as he guides Phil down to the floor between his legs.

"Let's see if this can hold your focus."  He says, as he unzips his jeans and pushes Phil's head into his lap.

For a brief moment Phil resists, his hands gripping Mr Barton’s thighs but the muscles beneath his palms are firm and solid and his mouth suddenly goes dry. Although all he really wants to do is bury his face in his boss’ crotch and give him the best blowjob of his life, he can’t; he won’t.

Phil looks up at him over the tops of his glasses and tries to protest but it’s half-hearted at best and he’s terrified _Clint_ Mr. Barton knows it. “Sir, I…” he stammers.

Clint smiles down at him, his fingers resting on the back of Phil’s head. Seeing Phil like this, on his knees between his thighs, almost makes Clint come there and then; it’s a glorious sight. “I what, Phil?” His voice is hoarse and raw and goes straight to Phil’s cock making it strain against his pants. This time he can’t stop the whimper.

Clint’s grin broadens the gleam in his eyes almost feral. “Truth or dare, Phil? Either way I guarantee you’re going to take me in your mouth until I come or tell you to stop.”

Phil’s eyes widen and he can almost feel his pupils dilate. His heart is hammering in his chest as he whispers “Truth.”

Clint nods. “Do you want to suck my cock?”

Phil looks up at him his expression almost almost innocent.

Clint’s cock twitches in his pants as his secretary groans and in a voice as broken as his own, “Yes, sir. Please.”   
  


"Such a good boy, Phil." Clint says.  He strokes his fingers through the short hair along the back of Phil's neck.  "Now show me what you can do, sweetheart."  His other hand works his dick through the fly of his jeans.

Phil leans forward, cheeks burning at the praise, and opens his mouth around the fat head.  Mr. Barton’s hand on the back of his head guides him as he swallows down as much as he can take, tongue sliding along the underside, thick cock filling his mouth and bumping the back of his throat as Phil tries to take it all in.

He's faintly aware of _Clint_ Mr. Barton murmuring, those strong hands carding through Phil's fine hair as he urged him on.  Phil's world has narrowed down to the sensation of hot cock pressing against his lips, filling his mouth, making his hole twitch in anticipation.

The crinkly hairs at the base of Mr. Barton’s cock are pressing against Phil's nose as Mr. Barton starts to thrust up into his mouth, fucking into his throat.  Phil's hands are clutching onto Mr. Barton’s muscular thighs, his tongue eagerly chasing the drops of precome oozing into his mouth.

He gives a little cry of frustration when Mr. Barton tightens a hand in his hair and pulls Phil's face off his cock with a juicy pop.  

"Shhh,  shhh."  Mr. Barton says, other hand coming up, one finger tracing Phil's swollen bottom lip.  "I'm going to give you more, in a minute.  But we've got so many other things to try."

Phil is still on his knees in front of Mr. Barton. He desperately wants to please him but the removal of his cock from Phil’s mouth leaves him feeling empty and frustrated.

He had been ready, more than ready, for the thick salty come to spurt into his mouth and down his throat but he’d been denied…for now only he hoped.

He closes his eyes for a moment savouring the taste of _Clint_ Mr. Barton’s cock and runs his tongue over his bottom lip enjoying the last traces of pre-come. As he does so it makes contact with Mr. Barton’s finger and Phil opens his eyes and stares at his boss feeling his hole twitch again as he tentatively licks his finger then slowly draws it into his mouth.This was the very thing he’d been thinking about before Mr. Barton led him to the desk by his tie…and now it was happening.  
  


Clint smiles down at him, his eyes hooded his face slack and relaxed. Fuck but Phil looked amazing like this; his bottom lip swollen, his face flushed, his pupils blown…And dear god! His secretary gave one hell of a blowjob that was for certain; he’d almost come a few times but it was the thought of eventually fucking Phil over his desk that, oddly enough, made him hold on. He’d have to remember his skills with his mouth for future but for now Clint wanted to see how he followed instructions.

“Truth or dare, Phil?” He removed his finger from his secretary’s mouth in order for him to speak.   
  


"Dare, sir." he said quietly bowing his head.  
  


Clint nodded, “Good. Drop your pants, Phil. I want to watch you jerk off.”

Phil freezes for a moment, his entire body tense and tight at the thought of it, of letting his boss, Clint, Mr. Barton see him like that.

"I don't like to be kept waiting, sweetheart.  Take off that nice suit and let me see you fuck your hand."  The words are soft, but an order nonetheless and Phil finds himself responding.

His fingers tremble as he works open the buttons of his jacket and then shrugs it off his shoulders.  The vest follows next, along with his shirt and tie.  Mr.  Barton takes each item from him, tossing them across the desk just out of Phil's reach. With each layer he feels his skin get tighter, the anticipation making him grow impossibly hard.  Mr. Barton has Phil's tie in his hand, running it through his callused fingers as he watches Phil shed his armor.

When Phil is completely bare above the waist, Mr. Barton loops the tie back around Phil's neck, strong hands stroking over Phil's shoulders.  "I've had a lot of thoughts  about you and your ties, Phil."

Phil licks his lips, hand hovering over his waistband.  He's still on his knees between Mr. Barton's legs, but surely he should stand up to take his trousers down.  He starts to rise but Mr. Barton's hands come back down on either shoulder, pulling the ends of the tie a little snug around Phil's bare neck.

"Down."  Mr.  Barton says firmly holding him in place  and the order makes Phil moan, his head dropping down low.  "Now give me a show."

He fumbles himself out of his pants, desperate as he wraps a hand around his dick.  The head is slick from precome already and he knows he won't last long, not with this beautiful man watching him.  Ordering him.  Making him do all the things he's always wanted to do but never dared.  
  


"That's right, sweetheart."  Mr. Barton says,  "Such a good boy. I like seeing you come undone for me."  He nudges his scuffed boot forward against Phil's knee.  "Come right here.  Let's see how pretty you look coming at my feet."

One hand slides into Phil's hair, forcing his face up, forcing eye contact so that the moment Phil comes all he can see is Mr. Barton's knowing smile.

"Good boy."

It takes Phil a few moments for his breathing to slow and the post-orgasm shuddering to stop.

Clint uses that time to centre himself. That was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen and heard; his quiet, reserved secretary sliding his hand up and down his cock, from root to tip until he came and came hard. The sound that he made as he exploded nearly forced Clint over the edge himself…a low growl that erupted from deep within his chest.

Fuck! And the expression on his face, guilty but filthy too, made Clint want to hold him and bite marks into his skin…but he didn’t. They weren’t finished yet.

He still had his mind set on fucking Phil over his desk especially now that he saw the body that had been hiding underneath those beautifully tailored suits - the broad shoulders and hairy chest; the trail of fuzz leading down to his cock and speaking of his cock…it was impressive and gorgeous. Next time maybe he’d wrap his lips around it and suck him dry. Clint feels the throb of his own dick as he imagines Phil’s in his mouth.

  
Phil looks up at _Clint_ Mr. Barton adoringly. He’s jerked off many times thinking about his boss but to do it, here, in his office in front of him was something he would never have dreamed a possibility. The only way it could be any better was for him to be fucked by Mr. Barton or to once again take him in his mouth and suck him off until he finally came down his throat. His breath hitched as the thought about it.

  
"You were so good, Phil. Such a good boy for me," He smiles as Phil ducks his head and glances up at him shyly. Could he be any more adorable? Yes, probably…with his cock in him. Speaking of which…he stands up lifting his secretary’s tie indicating that he wants Phil to stand too which he does obediently.

"I want to fuck you now, Phil. How do you feel about that?" The flaring nostrils, dilating pupils and shiver that runs over the older man is pretty much all he needs to know but he want to hear him say it. He leans into Phil’s space and whispers, "Talk to me Phil. Would you like my cock in you?"

  
"Yes, sir. Please."

“Well, since you asked so nicely I’m going to give you what you want.  Get rid of the rest of that.”  Clint gestures toward the remnants of Phil’s clothes and waits as the other man eagerly kicks away the pants and underwear pooled around his ankles and steps out of his socks and shoes.  

There’s something unbearably erotic about his quiet professional secretary stripped down to nothing but his glasses while Clint is still fully clothed, jeans only pushed down far enough to free his cock.  Phil’s come is drying on Clint’s boot and Clint thinks maybe he’ll leave it there as a reminder.  “Just think Phil, every time I wear these boots I’ll be thinking of how pretty you looked stroking your dick at my feet.”  He says it just to see that delightful flush spread across Phil’s cheeks.  

Phil bows his head again, equally embarrassed and aroused as Mr. Barton tugs him forward by the ends of the tie.  Then those callused hands are on Phil’s waist, stroking down to his hips.  He’s keenly aware of Mr. Barton’s hard body, inches from him, all that restrained power.  He wants to be at his mercy, to be used, to be used up.  The thought makes him shiver, a little sound of distress escaping him.

One of Mr. Barton’s hands comes up to grasp Phil’s chin, pushing his head up.  His eyes  are heavy lidded, knowing, and the fingers are gripping Phil just hard enough to hurt as he leans forward and brushes his lips across Phil’s.  Phil’s mouth opens obediently and Mr. Barton’s tongue slides right in, licking along Phil’s bottom lip and then inside, plunging in and out and learning every spot.

Phil whimpers when Mr. Barton draws back, mourning the loss of the kiss.

An instant later he finds himself roughly turned and pressed across the desk.  The sharp edge digging into his belly, his cock already half-hard again against his leg.  One of Mr. Barton’s hands is at the small of his back, the other palming his ass.

“You’ve been a very good boy for me, sweetheart.”  Mr. Barton leans over him, mouthing the words against Phil’s shoulder, teeth nipping at the skin.  “You’ve shown me how good your mouth can be around my dick, how pretty your cock can be in your hand, how sweet you can kiss.  I bet that tight little asshole of yours is going to be just as pretty and taste just as sweet.”

“Please, Sir.  Please.”  Phil begs. That hazy feeling is settling over his body.  He wants whatever Mr. Barton wants.  He wants to be wound up, wrung out.  

Mr. Barton pull back and Phil cries at the sudden loss of contact and then both of Mr. Barton’s hands are spreading his cheeks apart.  Hot breath right up against his quivering hole making him buck and moan.  

“Gorgeous.”  Clint says, surprised and delighted to find that his secretary is bare of hair, his little pink hole smooth when he flicks his tongue out for a taste.  Seems Phil is neat and tidy everywhere and Clint presses his mouth into the little pucker, tracing it with his tongue over and over while Phil bucks underneath him.  He slides one hand into his desk drawer and snags a bottle of lube.  Phil is so tight it’s going to take more than spit to slick the way.

Clint leans back, licking his lips, and popping the top of the lube open to spread some liberally across his fingers.  “I was right, Phil.  Your little hole is just as perfect as the rest of you.  I can’t wait to see how it looks all fucked open with my come dripping out of it.  We still have all these contracts to get through tonight.  Maybe my reward for finishing up will be having you spend the rest of the night on your hands and knees beside my chair so I can stick my fingers in your fucked out hole whenever I want.  Would you like that, sweetheart?”  He starts working one well-lubed finger into Phil’s ass, pressing just the tip in.

Phil groans at the words, the utter wrongness of his boss spreading him across his desk and saying such filthy things to him.  At the same time, he presses himself back, trying to force more of Mr. Barton’s finger inside.

“Yes, Sir.  Please.”

"I thought so. Look at you, pushing back against my finger. Fuck! I can’t wait until my cock’s in you."

Phil lets out a noise that goes straight to Clint’s dick; a cross between a whimper and a growl. He’s never heard anything like it before but he knows he wants to hear more of it…and soon.  
  


He slides out his finger then pushes it back in with a second. Phil gasps beneath him feeling the burn. “Jeezus! You’re so tight! Has it been a long time since you’ve been fucked like this, Phil?”

His secretary nods once then hangs his head partly because he’s concentrating on what Mr. Barton’s doing to him and partly because he’s ashamed. He’s not a virgin but there’s been no-one since he started working for his boss. He’s gone to a few clubs, been on a few dates but there was no-one that interested him, no-one who could measure up and now that he’s sucked Mr. Barton’s cock, wanked for him coming on his boots, been thoroughly kissed by him and currently has two of his fingers buried deep in his ass, he knows he’s right.

No-one else could do this to him, make him feel like this. Once again he pushes back into _Clint_ Mr. Barton’s hand with a filthy moan as his fingers scissor him, gently opening him wider.  
  


"You like this? Do you think you can manage another finger? I want to be in you so bad, Phil but I want you to be ready for me when I fuck you."

His secretary makes that noise again and it’s all Clint can do not to pull out his fingers and sink his cock in instead. As much as he wants Phil to feel him, to know he’s been there he wants him to enjoy it too.

"How about it, Phil?"

His secretary nods. "Yes, sir. Please." and Clint obliges pushing three fingers in, pulling them out a little and sliding them back in again slowly and steadily.

His other hand grips on to Phil’s hip tight enough to leave marks. Phil’s panting heavily beneath him, his ass in the air, his hands clasped in front of him as if in silent prayer. In actual fact he’s giving thanks to anyone who’ll listen for what’s happening to him at this moment. The haze has dropped over him again and he feels amazing as his boss continues to stretch him open with his fingers.  
  


He feels _Clint_ Mr. Barton’s weight suddenly on top of him as he leans over to whisper into his ear, his voice broken and raw, “I’m going to fuck you now, Phil. Are you ready for me?”

Phil shudders beneath him at the thought of Mr. Barton’s cock finally inside him. He own dick which has steadily been hardening as his boss worked at his hole, twitches with renewed interest. Fuck yes he’s ready!  
  


"Yes, sir. Fuck me please."  
  


Mr. Barton slides his fingers slowly out, the tip of his index finger tugging at the rim of Phil's hole and making Phil arch back.  Then the slicked up head of his cock is there and even after all the stretching it feels huge.

Clint's hands are on Phil's ass, spreading the cheeks apart, giving him a vivid view as he inches his way into Phil's tight heat.  "I like seeing you like this sweetheart," he grunts out.  "Right where you belong, sweet little hole getting split open on the end of my dick."

Phil's hands are scrambling for purchase on the desk, elegant fingers curling in and out as Clint finally pushes all the way in.  

Phil is full to the brim, Mr. Barton's cock fully seated in his ass. His hole is tight and sore and he wants to stay like this forever, stretched beyond capacity, body accepting everything the other man will give him.  He can feel his ass fluttering, clenching down around the invasion and it makes him feel owned.  He loves it and hates it. He wants more.

Clint stays perfectly still for a long moment, letting Phil's body adjust to his dick.  He's not a small man, and even with generous amounts of lube and prep work, Phil had been almost virgin tight.

Clint reaches one hand around and gets his hand on Phil's gorgeous cock, fisting it tightly.

The new sensation makes Phil gasp and buck and that's when Clint starts moving inside him, long slow thrusts opening him up.  

Phil is shuddering at the sensations, Mr. Barton's rough callused hand twisting up and down the length of his cock, his cock stroking into Phil's ass.  Every third or fourth stroke Mr. Barton angles to hit Phil's prostate, so that a new burst of pleasure washes over him.

Clint is moving faster now, thrusting harder as he feels Phil start to come apart underneath him.  Phil's cock in Clint's hand is dripping precome, Phil's ass clenching down to meet every thrust.  He gives Phil's dick one last jerk and then lets go to settle both hands over Phil's hips and slam them back as he pushes forwards.

"Come for me, Phil.  Be a good boy and come on my cock."  He orders, his voice low and ragged as he spills into Phil's ass.

Phil breaks at the command, his orgasm rolling over him, his come spurting out of his cock and onto Mr. Barton's desk.  

His last coherent thought as he slumps forward and lets himself fall completely under the haze that's been surrounding him is that he hopes he'll have bruises on his hips from Mr. Barton's hands.

 

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It wasn’t appropriate," Phil says. He drops his gaze from Clint’s, chews at his bottom lip. "I wasn’t appropriate. I won’t let it interfere with my duties as your secretary again. That part of my life, that part of me should be separate." He fiddles with the doorknob, one foot still in the corridor outside Clint’s office as if posed for escape.
> 
>  
> 
> "Oh Sweetheart, you misunderstand." Clint says and something dark and rich works its way down his spine. He reaches down and unfastens his belt, leaning forward in the chair and pulling the leather through the belt loops in one smooth motion. He doesn’t miss the way Phil’s eyes follow the movement, how his lips part.
> 
>  
> 
> "It’s not a request, it’s an order." Clint folds the dark leather over on itself and stretches it between his hands. "You can tell me no now and we’ll pretend nothing ever happened. Of course, that means nothing will ever happen again." He snaps the leather tight, lets out a low laugh at the way his secretary jumps at the noise. "Or you can lock the door and show me how well you follow orders."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a couple of things inspired this chapter. I ran across a lovely picture of a heavily tattooed man wearing a dress shirt and tie (you can see it incorporated in the chapter pic) and lovely lola381pce agreed that it would be very on point for our Secretary AU. And well, you know what happens when we get together...check the updated tags. Oh, and even though we are intending this to be complete as written it's highly likely we will revisit this particular story again.

 

 

Clint hates wearing suits, but even he knows you don't show up to close a multi-million dollar deal with somebody like Tony Stark in a faded tshirt and jeans. He starts out the day all dressed up in a dark gray suit and a starched shirt, with a goddamn neck tie around his neck like a noose. The only part of what he's wearing that feels like him are the heavy silver rings on his fingers and his favorite pair of boots.

 

He doesn't miss the appreciative looks that his secretary sends his way when he thinks Clint's not paying attention. It makes the monkey suit worth it. The dark leather of one of the boots still has a dull spot across the top, a little extra embellishment left there the week before when his secretary came so prettily at his feet.

 

By the end of the day Clint's shed the suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. The knot's half pulled out of his tie but at least he doesn't feel like it's choking him anymore. Phil, on the other hand, still looks completely put together and polished in his sedate navy suit.

 

It maybe makes Clint want to mess him up a bit, to see if he can bring out the wild side he knows is hidden beneath the well tailored clothes. He's alone in his office, savoring some Gentleman Jack when the object of his thoughts makes an appearance.

 

After the deal closes and the crowd thins out, Mr. Barton's in his office drinking whiskey straight from the bottle to celebrate. Phil goes to the door to tell him he's leaving for the day, because after that first time a week or so ago there had been nothing else between them.  The timeline on the deal had sped up and Clint had been out of the office most of the time and they hadn't really seen each other more than in passing.

 

Phil's been careful since that night of abandon, trying to reestablish the line that he so blatantly crossed. If he lets himself relive the moments in his lonely bed, well that's not something that his boss needs to know. He pauses in the doorway, letting his eyes roam over Mr. Barton's well muscled forearms with the alluring bit of black ink that trails along the tanned skin exposed by his rolled up sleeves. “If that's all Mr. Barton, I'm going to head out for the evening. Enjoy your weekend and congratulations on the deal.”

  


Only Clint  looks up at him with knowing eyes  and takes another swig of whiskey straight from the bottle before saying, "No Sweetheart, you're gonna stay and help me celebrate."  He sets the bottle down on the desk with a thump and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  He pushes the chair back from the desk a little and crooks his finger at Phil.  "Come here."

  


Phil’s heart races. He’s been waiting a long time to hear those words again…well a week feels like an eternity after all the sweet things that happened that night - the blowjob he gave Mr. Barton, the wanking over his boots, the kissing with Mr. Barton sucking his tongue, the fucking over that desk. He does his best to stop himself from shuddering at the memory but fails miserably. But he can’t; he won’t give in like that again. And yet, as he looks at Mr. Barton in a suit for once (dammit) and how incredible he looks with his rings on those beautiful hands and his tattoos on those wonderful arms, his cock hardens in his pants and he knows he will. He’ll fall at his knees and do whatever he tells him.

  


Phil’s eyes drop to Mr. Barton’s boots and yes he’s wearing them - the very ones he came over the last time they were alone in this office. His breath hitches and he can feel the flush in his cheeks. He raises his eyes and sees Mr. Barton studying him with a smirk on his face while his hand rubs his cock through his suit pants - he knows, he knows exactly what’s he’s thinking.

  


"That’s right, Sweetheart, the come stain’s still there. Every time I see it, I think of you. Come here, baby. Don’t keep me waiting…"

  


Clint loves seeing the flush creep up his secretary’s cheeks as he hovers in the doorway, the way his blue eyes go wide behind the dark frames of his glasses.  Clint’s spent a lot of time thinking about how beautifully the buttoned up facade of proper Mr. Coulson dissolved once he got the man on his knees.  The memory of taking him apart, stripping him bare and working him over with his mouth and fingers and cock are what got Clint through the interminable meetings of the last week.

  


"It wasn’t appropriate," Phil says.  He drops his gaze from Clint’s, chews at his bottom lip.  "I wasn’t appropriate. I won’t let it interfere with my duties as your secretary again.  That part of my life, that part of me should be separate."  He fiddles with the doorknob, one foot still in the corridor outside Clint’s office as if posed for escape.

  


"Oh Sweetheart, you misunderstand." Clint says and something dark and rich works its way down his spine.  He reaches down and unfastens his belt, leaning forward in the chair and pulling the leather through the belt loops in one smooth motion. He doesn’t miss the way Phil’s eyes follow the movement, how his lips part.

  


"It’s not a request, it’s an order."  Clint folds the dark leather over on itself and stretches it between his hands. "You can tell me no now and we’ll pretend nothing ever happened.  Of course, that means nothing will ever happen again."  He snaps the leather tight, lets out a  low laugh at the way his secretary jumps at the noise.   "Or you can lock the door and show me how well you follow orders."

  


He’s been given an out by his boss; he can say no and leave closing the door behind him and they will never speak of it again. The memory of the excitement and thrills of a week ago can remain exactly that - a memory.

  


Or he can follow the order he’s been given; the order that makes his palms damp and his mouth dry. His cock’s already beginning to tent in his pants and he can’t take his eyes off the leather belt. He can feel his heart racing in his chest. When it snapped in Mr. Barton’s hands all he could think about was it landing on his naked skin and the burning welt it would leave. He can’t stop his lips from parting slightly any more than he can control the tiny whimper that escapes at the image of Mr. Barton standing beside him as he swings the belt, the muscles of his forearms knotted with all that controlled power.

  


Clint smiles as his secretary closes the door and turns the key then walks towards him hesitantly, most likely ashamed that he’s given in to his desires again. He’s been cursing the amount of time he’s been forced to spend away from the office, from his boy. He’s thought about very little else since that night and it seems like he’s been hard almost constantly only relieved when he can finally get home and jack off at the thought of Phil’s gorgeous lips on his cock sucking him until he explodes down his throat.

  


"Good boy. I knew you couldn’t walk away from this. You looked so beautiful last time on your knees coming over my boots and spread out over my desk when I fucked you. You’re going to do everything I tell you, aren’t you? Just as you did the last time. Ah you were so good for me, Sweetheart, so good."

  


Phil nods, feeling his face flush at the praise he’s received; the thought of never doing this again was too much - he couldn’t walk away. No matter how hesitant he appeared, he was eager for whatever Mr. Barton wanted.

  


"I want you to strip for me, I want you to get out of that suit and show me how perfect you are. Come on, baby, what’re you waiting for?"

  


Strip? He stares at his boss not quite sure where to begin.

  


Clint senses his discomfort and decides to be indulgent and tells him, “Start with your tie and do it slowly for me. Let me enjoy it.”

  


Phil bites his lip and lifts his hands to the perfect Windsor knot in his blue silk tie. He pulls it apart slowly as instructed and drags it from his collar dropping it on the floor. He hates that he’s not folded it carefully but he doesn’t think that’s what Mr. Barton wants and he’s right. Clint takes another swig of whiskey from the bottle then licks his lips never taking his eyes off his secretary. Phil unfastens the first couple of buttons of his shirt then moves to take off his jacket taking his time sliding off his broad shoulders letting it fall beside the tie…

  


“That’s right, Sweetheart,” Clint says. The whiskey burns pleasantly going down, smooth and rough at the same time. “Now, come a little closer and lose the shirt.” He let’s his eyes roam over Phil’s body, all that muscle and pale skin with it’s dusting of freckles and thatch of curly chest hair. “It’s a shame to hide all that beneath a suit.”

 

He loves the way his words make his secretary blush anew as the other man slowly closes the last few feet between them and rounds the desk. Phil’s naked from the waist up, his navy blue suit pants straining over his erection. Clint carefully lays his belt over his thigh, stretching the dark leather out so that it drapes over his leg. Once again Phil seems mesmerized by it and Clint’s smile sharpens until it’s full of teeth.

 

Oh, he’s going to have such fun.

 

Clint reaches out, runs the the tip of his index finger lightly along the bulge of his secretary’s dick. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that pretty cock of yours, how nice you stroked it for me.” He opens his hand over it, presses his palm down hard enough that Phil shudders and gasps. He leans forward, shifts his hands until they’re on Phil’s hips and pulls him in close. He turns his head so that the end of the day stubble just starting to darken his jaw and cheeks rubs up along the soft skin of his secretary’s flat belly.

 

Clint can feel the faint tremors running through Phil’s body and the little prickles of gooseflesh that breaks out on his skin. He loves how sensitive his prim little secretary is, how all it takes is the right touch or phrase to make him come undone. Clint presses his mouth into the patch of skin below Phil’s belly button, right above his waistband. “Take your dick out for me, Sweetheart. See if you can convince me to suck on it a while. I bet you’ll make the sweetest noises when I put my mouth on you."

  


Mr. Barton’s lips are warm and wet against his body and when the tip of his tongue makes contact and begins to lick patterns into the skin it’s all Phil can do to keep upright. The groan escapes from his mouth before he even realizes he’s made it.

 

"Yeah, that’s it." Clint growls into Phil’s belly. "Just like that." Clint grips his secretary’s hips tight almost hard enough to bruise and begins to suck at the skin, teasing it with his tongue, grazing it with his teeth. "Wanna mark you." He murmurs against him kissing him gently then becoming harder, more insistent.

 

Phil’s head falls back, his lips parting in another gasp. “Yes.” The area’s become sensitive to Mr. Barton’s attention, a series of raw nerve endings and every lick, every pull of his lips makes Phil’s body shudder. The knowledge that his boss is putting his mark on him goes straight to Phil’s cock bringing another filthy moan from him and his hips jerk forward.

 

"Get your dick out." It’s almost a snarl, it’s certainly not a request and there’s almost an urgency to Clint’s tone. Hands shaking, Phil obeys. He pulls down his zipper and slides his hand in hissing as it makes contact with his sensitive dick. Carefully he eases it out and offers it to Mr. Barton. Clint’s eyes flick up to Phil’s taking in the glazed look in the other man’s expression, the flush that’s spread from his chest to his cheeks; it’s beautiful.

  


"Fuck your cock’s perfect!" he tells him before he slides his mouth over the tip taking him almost all the way to the root in one long suck.

 

Phil’s hand drops to Mr. Barton’s shoulder to steady himself and to stop from jerking his hips. He may have thought about this moment, he’s even jerked off imagining it but the reality is incredible and he let’s out a ragged cry. One of Mr. Barton’s hands is gripping his ass cheek hard pulling Phil’s trembling body towards him as he sucks his cock deep into his throat; the other is wrapped around the bottom of his shaft his thumb and forefinger squeezing tight, neither he nor Mr. Barton want him to come just yet.

 

Clint draws his head back and slides his mouth and tongue over Phil’s cock in smooth steady movements, his spit slicking it up making it glisten. Phil’s grip is tight on his shoulder and Clint knows there will be fingermarks there in the morning and he’s delighted by it - he loves that his normally quiet and reserved secretary, always polite, always in control, is coming apart with his cock in Clint’s mouth. And that sound he makes, that low growl that seems to start deep in Phil’s chest is such a fucking turn on.

  


Clint’s own cock is hard and throbbing but there are still things Clint wants to do to Phil before he can claim his own release… things involving that leather belt that he seems transfixed by.

  


**

  


Clint pulls back, letting Phil's dick slide out of his mouth with a wet pop.  He keeps his hand fisted around the base, notes with satisfaction that now his secretary's groin is smooth and waxed just like his little pink asshole had been the week before.  

  


The nest of tight little brown curls is gone. The contrast between Phil's hairy chest with its narrow happy trail and the hairless skin at the base of Phil's cock shouldn't be such a turn-on but it is.  It's like a secret present only meant for Clint to enjoy.

  


He pushes Phil back until his ass is pressed against the hard edge of Clint's desk, his hand sliding down from Phil's pretty cock to cup the hairless balls and give them a hard tug.  His secretary lets out a ragged gasp, and Clint scoots his office chair forward and looks up the length of Phil's body. "I don't know, Sweetheart.  Looks like you've let someone play down here. Got yourself all cleaned up and bare."

  


Phil shakes his head, voice coming out in a low whine when Clint's fingers tighten on his balls. "No, Sir."  His face flushes bright pink and he drops his eyes to the floor, "I waxed myself for you."

  


Clint wraps his free hand around the dark leather of the belt laying across his thigh.  He draws it down over his leg slowly until it dangles between his hand and the floor.  His secretary's dick jumps as Phil watches the movement, a fresh little trickle of precome pooling at the head.

  


"I wish I could believe you, "  Clint says, handsome face drawn into a mocking frown.  His other hand relaxes just a bit, palm holding Phil's balls gently as his thumb caresses the sensitive skin of his sack.  

  


After another slow stroke, Clint pushes himself up from the chair and crowds against Phil.  He puts his mouth to Phil's ear, "But a minute ago you were trying to run away."  He scrapes the edge of his nails over Phil's balls and then slides a finger further back to press against his dry hole.

  


He can feel his secretary shivering against him, the way his muscled body has gone so sweet and pliant.  "You trying to play it hot and cold, Sweetheart?  Keep me guessing?"  Clint asks.  He pushes the very tip of his finger inside Phil's hole, grinds his thigh against Phil's dick until he bucks against him.  It hits every button Clint has, makes him feel more powerful than the multi-million dollar deal he closed with Stark to have this polished man so ready to give it up to him.

  


"Maybe if I mark that gorgeous ass of yours up with this belt you seem so fascinated by, it'll help you remember how much I like an eager boy."  Clint smiles at the breathy little sound his words draw from his secretary and tightens his hand around his belt.

  


Not only does Phil’s cock twitch at his boss’ words but his hole clenches around Mr. Barton’s finger giving away his aching desire for him to follow through on his words. Since he saw the belt in Mr. Barton’s hand he’s never wanted anything more…except perhaps Mr. Barton’s cock where his finger is, buried deep inside him fucking him hard. They’re still pretty much cheek to cheek and Phil whispers ”Yes,” softly.

 

Clint smiles that wolfish grin he uses only for his secretary. He knows he has him now but he’s in a teasing mood and really wants to see how far he can push this calm, dependable man before he cracks. Looking straight ahead, almost ignoring Phil, he pushes his finger deeper into his ass brushing against his prostate making Phil’s hips jerk. “What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t quite hear you.”

 

Phil swallows and licks his lips. He knows Mr. Barton is toying with him and wants him to beg; he’s certainly not above it if it means he’s going to feel the leather against his skin and Mr. Barton’s hands caressing the burn of his ass. He tries again; his voice is broken and raw but it doesn’t waver as he says “I’d like you to use the belt, sir. Please.”

 

Clint turns his mouth to his secretary’s ear and murmurs “Anything for you, sweetheart. You’re going to be such a good boy for me, aren’t you? You’ve done this before.” It’s not a question. Clint knows from the way Phil has been eyeing up the belt in his hand that he’s done something like this previously; not with him however and he wants to know how much the other man can take. Phil nods and Clint smiles to see the blush spread from his chest to the tips of his ears; it’s beautiful and he can’t help but want more of it.

 

Once again Clint crowds Phil forcing him back against the desk and, chest to chest, he breathes into his ear, “Where do you like it, sweetheart? How do you like it?”

 

Moving back again, giving his secretary just enough space, he turns him around so that the front of his thighs are now pressed into the desk, his balls brushing the surface. Clint slides his hand across his broad shoulders then follows it with a light tap of the belt. “Here?” Phil closes his eyes and drops his head forward, biting his lip to stop from moaning.

 

"Or here?" Clint trails his fingers down his back stopping at another point tapping it with the belt. He grins watching the goose bumps break out over his secretary’s skin, hearing his breath hitch. He pushes his erection against the crack of his secretary’s ass and sinks his fingers hard into the flesh and muscle of his left buttock. Leaning into him he rasps in his ear “What about here?”

 

Phil can’t hold back any longer and lets loose a filthy moan as his hips buck and his cock twitches and leaks.

 

Clint licks his lips and nods. “Why don’t we start here then, sweetheart, and see where we go. Lean forward, show me what a good boy you are and we’ll start with ten, okay? Do you have a safe word?”

 

"Killswitch" Fucking weird safe word thinks Clint but okay it’ll do the job.

 

As Phil gets himself into position spread over his boss’s desk, Clint takes off his tie and shirt knowing they will be too restrictive when he swings the belt. He’s now naked from the waist up and the muscles across his chest and shoulders flex and ripple as he folds the belt in two making it into a strap with the buckle and tongue in his palm.

 

Phil’s leaning forward, his hands shoulder width apart waiting and the longer the wait drags out, the shorter his breath becomes as the anticipation builds until there’s a loud crack that fills the room and a sudden pain that shoots its way across Phil’s buttocks. He lets out a sharp cry but it’s more because he’s startled and not because he’s hurt.

 

"How was that?" Clint asks him as softly, as his hand gently rubs the area where the belt landed checking to make sure there’s no damage.

 

"Good…" Phil responds but he cuts off anything else he’s about to say and hangs his head down towards the desk.

 

"But…?" Clint encourages, knowing he was about to say something.

 

"I can take it harder. I’d like it to be harder."

 

Clint nods. He’s only used about 30% of his upper body strength in a forearm swing - it’s hard but obviously just a taster for Phil and if he can take more, Clint’s willing to give it. He wants to, needs to know the other man’s limits. He touches Phil’s ass cheek one more time then leans back bringing the belt down on the same spot with a little more power. Phil grunts as the leather bites into his skin.

  


Once again he feels Mr. Barton’s hand tenderly stroking the area as he murmurs what a good boy he’s being. A third strike lands and this time Phil jerks forward and his breath hitches. Fifty percent with a full arm stroke - the redness is accompanied by a raised strip that straddles both ass cheeks. A fourth stroke of the leather brings the same result and a strangled cry escapes Phil’s lips.

 

Every couple of strikes, Clint stops and carefully checks the skin; it’s glowing red and hot to touch but it’s not broken and his secretary, although groaning quietly, isn’t showing signs of pain or stress. The ninth and tenth strikes have Phil’s elegant hands scrabbling for purchase on the desk and the growl/cry coming from his chest along with a few obscenities escaping from his mouth make Clint’s cock throb. Fuck yes! This is what he wants…to see this beautiful figure come apart for him. As he carefully touches his fingertips to the marks feeling the burn, he says “Tell me how you’re doing. Sweetheart.”

 

Phil’s cock is dripping pre-come onto the desk. His breath is erratic and sweat has broken out across his shoulders and down his back. He can’t believe how amazing he feels and wonders what Mr. Barton would be like with a crop or a whip. “I’m good,” Phil tells him. “Don’t stop. Please.”

 

"Are you sure? You’ve been so good but…"

  


Phil reaches round and touches Clint’s arm.

  


He looks back over his shoulder and Clint’s heart misses a beat. Mr. prim and proper looks thoroughly fucked, especially with that bead of sweat that rolls from his forehead down the contours of his face before dripping off his chin. Another few strokes would probably take him over the edge. "Okay sweetheart. Two more and I’m going to let you come."

 

When it happens, Phil knows he has never come like this before and his voice is hoarse from the scream he makes as he lets go over Mr. Barton’s desk. His whole body is shaking and suddenly his arms and legs can no longer hold him upright and he collapses across the desk in a haze as the endorphins rush through his body. He’s never felt so good.

 

Clint drops the belt onto his seat and leans over Phil gently running his hands over his body. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”  

 

"I’m good," Phil responds.

 

His voice is thick and slurred and Clint knows immediately if he’s not in subspace he’s teetering on the edge. “You’ve been so good, such a good boy for me,” he tells his wrung out secretary as he continues to stroke him. Seeing his normally unflappable secretary splayed out like this, red marks raised on his buttocks and a haze that’s settled over him, makes Clint surge with pride. He only comes apart like this for him and it makes him feel both powerful and special. Knowing when Phil recovers enough to leave the office, when he puts his armor back on – that beautifully tailored suit – the mask of professionalism will slip back into place and he’ll become the epitome of competence that everyone in the company perceives as his usual behavior which, Clint supposes, it is. Only he gets to see this other side, the darker side.

 

Phil hums with pleasure at the praise. A haze has settled over him and everything feels incredible. He’s vaguely aware of Mr. Barton lifting him gently to cradle him in his arms. He feels something touching his lips and hears Mr. Barton telling him to drink. It’s sweet and tastes good, Gatorade maybe, and he downs half of it as Mr. Barton continues to stroke him and praise him.

 

Phil drifts in and out, anchored only by Mr. Barton's hands moving over his body, his rough voice whispering promises and endearments into his ears. He's not sure how much time passes before the haze starts to dissipate and he realizes at some point Mr. Barton has moved him to the leather couch along one wall of his office.

 

Phil opens his eyes as awareness creeps back to him. He's stretched out full length on the couch and Mr. Barton has Phil's head cradled in his lap. Those powerful hands that left him wrung out and floating are still stroking over him, one carding through his hair while the other strokes his bare shoulder. He's fully naked, but the plush purple throw that's usually spread along the back of the couch is draped over him.

 

His face flushes scarlet and he tries to push himself up but Mr. Barton's hands hold him firmly in place. “Easy there, Sweetheart. You were down a long time, you've got to come up nice and easy for me.”

 

Phil blinks and realizes that at some point, Mr. Barton had even removed his glasses. God, maybe it's better that everything is a little fuzzy. He's not sure he could hold up under Mr. Barton's direct gaze if he had his glasses on. “That was...thank you.” He says at last. He can't remember the last time he was taken down so thoroughly, riding that thin line between pleasure and pain until it dissolved into pure sensation and all his barriers melted away.

 

“Oh no, Sweetheart. Thank you.” Mr. Barton drops his head and presses a gentle kiss against Phil's cheek. “It was my pleasure. Watching you break apart and fly like that, it was gorgeous.” The hand on Phil's shoulder drifts down lower, a fingertip brushing across Phil's nipple. “Gorgeous.” Mr. Barton says again.

 

Phil shudders at the fresh sensation and arches into the touch. He bites down on his bottom lip to hold back a moan and then moans anyway when Mr. Barton lets out a low laugh and uses the edge of his nail against the nub of flesh.

 

There are things that should be said, he knows. Parameters that should be put in place if this is going to work at all. He flushes again when he realizes that Mr. Barton didn't even get off. “I didn't even, you didn't We should...” he starts to say and then trails off when Mr. Barton's hand slides down to scratch along his ribs.

 

“How about you come home with me tonight, Sweetheart. Let me take you apart over and over again. Doesn't that sound good?” Mr. Barton's voice is full of promise and dark things that make Phil shiver.

 

Phil Coulson is not a reckless man, but he doesn't even take a moment to deliberate before saying, “Yes, Sir.”

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 


End file.
